


Fooled Around and Fell In Love

by youvebeenlivingfictional



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fingering, Not beta-read, Oneshot, Oral Sex, This is a long one guys, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26869846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youvebeenlivingfictional/pseuds/youvebeenlivingfictional
Summary: He raised his brows, intrigued, and the giggling one grinned. He’d assumed he’d be the one on the prowl that evening. Apparently he’d been wrong.
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Reader, Santiago "Pope" Garcia/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Fooled Around and Fell In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the movie. Not beta-read
> 
> Here’s a really long compressed oneshot I wrote have fun guys
> 
> *Come here
> 
> **Stop; That’s enough
> 
> ***Darling

Between missions sometimes meant between hookups for Pope.  
  
It wasn’t that he slept with every single informant he had, but he did have...A type. And when a mission ended, or hit a dead-end, they were sent elsewhere for their own safety. That left Santiago on his own, with too much time on his hands and too many thoughts in his head.  
  
He kept an apartment in Medellín for these times, when he needed to fall back, regroup. He didn’t spend much time there, so it was sparsely furnished - a couple of changes of clothes, a bed, a couch, a coffee table. The most well-thought out part of the apartment was the security system. It was a place to let himself drop in, take someone home, forget himself for a night or two before heading back to work.  
  
Pope had a couple of ‘regular’ spots that he went to when he needed a hookup - places close enough to his apartment that he could walk back to.  
The bar was pretty busy, but not stupidly packed. He gave the bartender a nod, hardly able to raise his hand in a wave before he was distracted by a bout of laughter. There were two women at the bar having a drink - one was leaning over the bar top, descending into giggles, and the other was hiding her smile behind her hand.  
  
She caught his eye as he passed them, her smile widening as he quirked a brow at her. She averted her eyes as he passed them. He settled at the end of the bar - people rarely took that seat. It was the best vantage point, close to the emergency exit. 

Pope got a drink, texted the team back home to check in before he went back to checking out his prospects for the evening. There were a few people in the bar that he’d seen around before, a few others that were eyeing him up. His eyes kept traveling back to the two women at the bar, particularly to the woman that seemed to be hiding her smile. When there was a lull in the bar noise, Santiago’s ear caught on their conversation, on their accents - American. He was a little surprised - this bar wasn’t particularly popular with tourists.  
  
He checked his phone, responding to the guys’ texts before he glanced up again. The giggling one was leaning over, speaking to her friend, and watching him closely. Her friend had a quirked brow, curious, but she wasn’t looking at Santiago.  
  
He raised his brows, intrigued, and the giggling one grinned. He’d assumed he’d be the one on the prowl that evening. Apparently he’d been wrong.  
  
\--  
  
You’d had to be talked into going on vacation. You didn’t think you had enough time, or enough energy, which was the exact reason your friend Jen convinced you to go in the first place. She had family in Medellín, had been several times herself, and knew all of the best local spots to hit up. She insisted you left your work laptop at home, packed your cutest clothes, and just chilled the fuck out for a week.  
  
And while you’d still brought your work laptop with you (just in case, you know), after a couple of days there, you were actually starting to relax. Jen had talked you into going out and grabbing a drink, “Maybe getting lucky,” She’d teased with a wink.  
  
You had zero intention of hooking up with anyone.  
  
And then _he_ had caught your eye.  
  
You hadn’t meant to make eye contact with the guy, honest, but he’d been looking at the both of you as he came in. Jen had caught you out for looking once she’d recovered from her laughing fit, but unlike you, who was determined to let the guy drink in peace, she didn’t stop looking.  
  
“He’s hot,” She pointed out, “You could do worse.”  
  
“He could do better,” You said flippantly, trying to get the bartender’s attention. You hissed as Jen pinched your thigh, swatting at her hand.  
  
“Be nice to yourself, bitch,” She said flatly before adding, “Besides, you need to get _laid_. And he looks like just the man for the job.”  
  
You hummed thoughtfully, but kept your eyes on the bar, rather than turn them in the direction of the stranger. Jen leaned over, murmuring, “He’s looking over here, you know.”  
  
You didn’t dare look up. You were sure she was just saying so to get a rise out of you, to get you to look at the handsome man again and to prove to her that you were, in fact interested.  
  
“What would you do if he came over right now?” Jen pressed. You sighed heavily.  
  
“Well that’s easy, Jen. First I’d give him a _real_ thorough once-over, and then I’d tell him that I noticed that he walked in like he’s the hottest thing since sliced fuckin’ bread, which is fair, cause he is, and then I’d ask if he had time for either a quick fuck in the bathroom or if he was interested in finding somewhere a little more quiet and slightly more hygienic. Granted, this is if he speaks English, because no way am I typing that into Google translate, and I’m not asking you to be a go-between.”  
  
Jen snorted, muttering, “How kind of you.”  
  
“And don’t worry, beautiful, I speak English.”  
  
You froze at the voice that spoke up behind you and you felt your eyes widen as a nervous excitement shot through your stomach, straight down to your toes. You looked in the direction of where the stranger had been sitting for the last half hour and found it empty. You cast a sidelong glance at Jen next, who was grinning like the cat that got canary. You finally turned your head just a little bit to see the man standing behind your bar stool, a rakish smile on his lips.  
  
You wanted to melt right through the floor.  
  
“Would you like to get your once-over in now or after I buy you a drink?” He asked. You turned, meeting his eye for the first time since he’d walked in. A wave of boldness swept over you as you answered,  
  
“After you buy _us_ a drink,” Nodding to Jen. She arched a brow, unsure of where the attitude had come from. The man didn’t shy away, though, instead getting the bartender’s attention to get you all another round. You’d expected him to stay settled between yourself and Jen, but instead he took the empty bar stool on the other side of you (after he’d introduced himself as Santiago Garcia).  
  
\--  
  
“Can I ask you something?”  
  
Jen was now speaking with a man on the other side of her, and you no longer felt bad about giving so much of your attention to Santiago. And you had been giving a _lot_ of your attention to Santiago. It was hard not to - he was so... Magnetic. His eyes were dark, and warm; his smile and his laugh were infectious. You felt yourself being almost drawn out where you’d typically retreat after a few minutes of conversation with someone that you didn’t know.  
  
“Sure,” You agreed, nodding.  
  
“Would you really fuck me in the bathroom?”  
  
Santiago’s voice had little affectation to it; you couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. You felt your face flush hot and you fought to keep your gaze locked with his. You could see him smiling a bit at your embarrassment.  
  
“I might’ve, if I hadn’t seen the state of ladies room. I can only imagine the men’s is way more gross,” You answered, matching his tone. Santiago nodded sagely before he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and pulled out a few bills.  
  
“Well,” He said thoughtfully, “My apartment is uh...How’d you put it? ‘Slightly more hygienic’.” Anticipation rolled through you like thunder at the desirous look Santiago cast you. You swallowed thickly before managing to quip,  
  
“Just slightly?”  
  
Santiago's grin lit up the bar.  
  
\--  
  
You were jittery - but in a good way. This was out of the ordinary for you, you were not the one night stand type. Not that you had anything against them; they just weren’t your style. But Santiago's’ hand felt so reassuring where it rested against your lower back, not pressing or pushing you, just guiding you softly. His apartment was close to the bar, the second floor of a walk-up, and you let him take the lead as you reached it, watching the sway of his hips and ass as he led the way upstairs.  
  
This was where you were sure you’d finally falter. Your bold streak at the bar, your talkativeness, those must’ve been a fluke. This was going to be it; this was going to be where Santiago realized he’d left someone more relaxed, much more fun at the bar.  
  
But he didn’t give you that chance to second guess yourself. He got you both inside, tossed his keys under his arm without turning to see where they wound up - you watched as they landed on the coffee table.  
  
“Smooth,” You commented with a nervous smile.  
  
“I have my moments,” Santiago passed it off easily, but you could see how pleased he was that you were at least a little impressed by him. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers trailed down the side of your cheek before he cupped your jaw gently. It was an easy move, clearly one that was practiced, and you tried not to think about how many other people had been privy to those exact touches, this exact look.  
  
“Double smooth,” You mumbled. Santiago hummed in response, inching closer, his other hand settling on your hip. Your mouth suddenly felt very dry, and you wondered if you wouldn’t have been better off with a quick fuck in the bathroom.  
  
“You’re blushing,” Santiago informed you, a smug smile overtaking his lips. You never had been very good at keeping your emotions invisible - you wore your heart on your sleeve (and your dirty thoughts on your cheeks).  
  
"I’m just warm,” You excused, “And don’t say ‘are you sure it’s not just me’.”  
  
“Well, are you?” Santiago asked, “You seem pretty quick to dismiss that theory, even though you said I was... What was it... ‘ _the hottest thing since sliced fuckin’ bread’?”  
  
_ Your eyes dropped to his neck as your hands settled on his shoulders.  
  
“In my defense, I was teasing Jen. I had no idea that you were behind me.”  
  
“I kinda got that when you looked like you wanted the floor to swallow you,” He teased. You closed your eyes, flushed but laughing ask you made to turn your head away. Santiago’s hand stilled you, though, and you opened your eyes to regard him curiously.  
  
“Don’t hide from me,” he said softly, smoothing his finger over your jaw, “I wanna see that smile.”  
  
And he was still smiling at you, but that teasing had disappeared from it. Instead you were faced with this sweet look and these soft eyes.You surprised the both of you when you darted in for a kiss.  
  
Santiago made an interested noise in the back of his throat. Maybe he’d thought he’d have to initiate everything that evening. But he took it in stride, hands cradling your jaw as his tongue traced the seam of your lips. It was a slow and unsteady journey back to his room. You nearly tripped over his feet more than once, but Santiago always caught you, twice using your momentum to pin you against the wall. Both of those instances had led to handsy make outs, slick mouths slotting together as hands wandered, stroked, tugged at clothing and hair.  
  
When you’d finally made it to Santiago’s room, you let yourself be nudged back onto the bed. Santiago had already lost his shirt, and you were moderately certain that, whenever you did leave, your sundress had been thrown over the back of the couch. You reached up, running your hands over Santiago’s arms as he settled over you on the bed. The room was dim, light bleeding in from the streetlight through the blinds, glinting off of his chain. You tipped your head back as Santiago began to presses tender kisses down the column of your throat. You shivered, feeling the metal of the chain tease over your skin, then drag as Santiago’s kisses trailed down.  
  
His hands slipped under you and you arched your back, giving him room to unclasp and remove your bra. You shrugged out of it, flinging it aside and sighing sweetly as Santiago sucked on one of your nipples. You reached down, sliding your fingers tenderly across his shoulder blades, feeling him tense and shift as he moved from one side to the other.  
  
You had the thought that you were going to be a little bossy - to tell Santiago that you wanted to lay with your head hanging off of the bed so that he could use your mouth, but all semblance of bossiness flew out the window when the pads of his fingers skimmed across the band of your underwear. You felt yourself tense immediately, then pushed yourself to relax - but it was too late. He had felt it too. Santiago lifted his head from the kiss he’d been pressing to your stomach, peering up at you in the dim of the room.  
  
“What is it?” He asked quietly.  
  
“Nothing,” You excused.  
  
“Didn’t feel like nothing.”  
  
Santiago propped himself up, looking down at you. He could hear his own heart pounding, marked the steady rise and fall of your chest. When you didn’t answer, he added, “We can stop if you don’t wanna--”  
  
“No!” You rushed out, panicked, before you grimaced, embarrassed, “No, it’s-- it’s not that, I--” You closed your eyes, letting one of your hands fall from his shoulders to scrub your hand over your face.  
  
“I don’t... Do this much,” You admitted.  
  
“...Have sex?” Santiago pressed delicately. You rolled your eyes a little as you lowered your hand from your face.  
  
“Go home with people.”  
  
Santiago’s brow furrowed, surprised by the admission and intrigued by the fact that he was the exception. He pressed in a little closer, thighs spreading your hips, arms bracing himself as he lowered himself back over you to get a better look at your face.  
  
“Then why’d you do it with me?” He asked. You shook your head a little, lifting your hand and stroke over his stubbled cheek.  
  
“I don’t know,” You confessed, “You’re...Gorgeous and funny and... Is wanting you enough of a reason?”  
  
Santiago lowered his head, brushing his lips against yours tenderly before pressing in for a more heated kiss. You shifted, bracketing your knees with his hips and moaning quietly when you felt the warmth and weight of him through his jeans. You pressed your hips up, seeking more of that contact, and Santiago obliged you in the most agonizing way. He rolled his hips deliciously slowly, a hand lifting away from the bed to reverently drift over your neck, your side, your stomach, your thigh. Those tender touches from his rough hands, his hot kisses and the press of his tongue told you that you weren’t alone in your wanting, that it was more than enough of a reason.  
  
Santiago’s kisses trailed back down your body, and you felt yourself relax more, legs falling open as he turned to mouth a kiss at the bend of your knee. His fingers found the waistband of your underwear again and stilled there. Your eyes found his in the dark and you nodded. When he didn’t move right away, you reached down, resting your hands over his hand lifting your hips up, helping him peel the dampened fabric away.  
  
Santiago dropped them over the side of the bed before he settled down on his stomach. You shivered as his cheek scraped against your thigh. He chased the burn with a lick and a kiss, a wordless and insincere apology. You shivered as he lined your inner thighs with kisses. He slipped his arms under you, fingers spreading over your heated skin as he nosed the crease of your hip.  
  
You tried to press closer to him, to make contact where you needed it most, but those hands held you in place. You couldn’t see him smiling, but you were sure he was at how desperate you were acting.  
  
This was torture.  
  
Before you had to complain or beg, though, Santigo’s tongue teased up your lips tenderly. You went tense again, but Santiago’s fingers soothed over your hipbones in gentle circles. He repeated the motion before poking his tongue out, taking kittenish laps at your clit. You shuddered at the light contact, biting your lip. You’d given up trying not to squirm against his grip, or to keep quiet, and you reached down, tangling a hand in Santiago’s hair. That seemed to spur him on, and he latched his mouth over your pussy, giving it a long, hot suck before he leaned away, groaning.  
  
“You taste so sweet,” He murmured before he leaned back in, tongue probing your hole. You whined, giving Santiago’s hair a tug. He slid a hand out from under you, rubbing his thumb across your lips before slipping it into you. You clenched around it, groaning, hips rolling with a little more freedom now that he wasn’t holding you down as hard. Santiago turned his head, smearing his lips along your inner thigh. He rested his head against your hip as he eased his thumb out before slipping his middle finger into you. You sighed high in your throat as the calloused tip of his thumb began to rub lazy circles over your clit.  
  
“That’s it,” You heard Santiago murmur. You squeezed your eyes shut as he leaned in, licking wetly at your clit before his thumb slickly slipped over the tender bundle of nerves. You felt like you couldn’t focus - the hot puffs of Santiago’s breath, the rough tip of his finger against your clit, his stubble against your pussy lips, his tongue darting out intermittently to taste you, his finger steadily pumping into you-- _fingers_. He pressed a second into you, grinning as you whined and pressed down against them.  
  
Santiago’s tongue laved over your clit, alternating between slow, sensual circles, and quick flicks. His fingers picked up speed, curling and stroking and stretching. You could hear how wet you were for him - you’d never heard anything so filthy in your life. You bit your lip as you felt the heat coiling in your lower stomach.  
  
“Santiago,” You warned quietly, “ ‘m gonna cum.”  
  
“Good,” was his muffled response, hardly missing a swipe at your clit with his tongue said it. You almost laughed at the flippancy of it, but he redoubled his efforts, sliding his thumb back into place, alternating between rubbing and licking your clit as he pumped his fingers faster. You gasped, hand tightening in his hair as he brought you over the edge. You couldn’t help the broken swear that left your lips, the tightening of your hand in his hair as your back bowed and your toes curled. He didn’t let up, working you through your orgasm, licking around his fingers as you clenched down on them, thumb circling your clit until you weakly swatted at it, too tender to take any more. He stopped then, gently easing his fingers out of you and sliding the slick digits over your trembling thighs, turning his head and scraping his teeth over your hipbone as you came down from your high.  
  
Santiago gazed up at you, at your body still tensed and taut from pleasure, nipples hard and peaked, head resting against his pillows, the long line of your neck barred to him. He closed his eyes, pressing kisses to whatever skin he could reach.  
  
You lifted your head as Santiago began to lay kisses on your skin. You loosened your fingers from Santiago’s hair, combing through the clumps of curls you’d created and urging him up. His body covered yours as he obliged, smiling as you drew him in for a kiss. You groaned as the tart taste of yourself on Santiago’s tongue. You slipped a hand between the two of you, palming Santiago through his jeans. He grunted, pressing down against your hand as you gave him a squeeze.  
  
“Feeling impatient?” He murmured.  
  
“I want you in my mouth so bad,” You breathed. You smiled against his lips when you felt him groan against your lips.  
  
“Take these off,” You added, tugging at his belt loop.  
  
You wondered if Santiago had felt exposed like you did when he was laid out under you like this, but he seemed perfectly at ease. You half expected him to recline and tuck his hands behind his head like he was lounging on a fucking beach chair. You could feel the doubts creeping in again, but you pushed them down as you took him into your mouth. Santiago sighed, and you glanced up to find him with his eyes closed. You liked that better - it was a little intimidating, knowing when he was staring down at you. You began to bob your head, tongue swirling around the head as you focused on him. You pulled out every trick you knew, grinning when you heard his breath catch in his throat.  
  
You lifted your mouth off of Santiago’s length, tongue trialing along the underside of his cock before you blew on the head. His cock twitched, a bead of precum spurting from the head. You groaned, lapping it up before it could get far.  
  
“Damn,” He mumbled. You grinned, turning your head and mouthing along the side, tongue trailing along it before taking the head back into your mouth and suckling it. You felt Santiago’s fingers on your cheek and you hummed around him. The hum turned to a groan as his hips jumped from the vibration, driving him deeper into your mouth. He reached down, gently tapping your jaw. You leaned back, swirling your tongue around the head one more time before you leaned away.  
  
“What is it?” You asked.  
  
“Get up here,” He ordered. You shivered at the firmness in his tone and you scrambled to do what he said, pushing yourself up to straddle his thighs. Santiago’s hands smoothed over your thighs.  
  
“Condom?” You asked. Santiago propped himself up, leaning over to grab one from the bedside table. You leaned down, kissing his shoulder as it was pressed closer to you.  
  
“You gonna stay on top, beautiful?” He asked, leaning back and pressing the little packet into your hand.  
  
"I think I like it up here,” You said, wiggling your hips teasingly. Santiago laughed. He slid a hand over thigh, the other slipping between you to slide and tap over your clit gently. Your hips jerking little, still sensitive. You rolled the condom down over him, twisting your hand a couple of times once the condom was in place. You lifted your hips, teasing the head of his cock along your lips a few times, biting your lips.  
  
Santiago watched you closely, holding still as you toyed with the both of you. He fought the urge to press up into your warm, wet heat - you were so close, but you had taken him in hand, had taken control, and he liked it. He watched as you began to lower yourself onto him, and he let out a soft groan. He let his eyes drift up to your face, finding your head tipped forward. Santiago reached up, tucking two fingers under your chin and guiding you to meet his eyes. He moaned at the sight of your hazy eyes, your parted lips, the soft whine you loosed when you looked at him.  
  
You let yourself lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you adjusted. Santiago let his hand drift from your chin to your neck before it slid down, lightly groping your breast.  
  
“Y’alright?” He asked. You nodded quickly and he smiled, letting his hands drift down to your hips as you began to roll your hips.  
  
“That’s it, beautiful,” He murmured, fingers digging into your skin as you began to pick up your pace, “Fuck, that’s it-- Jesus, look at you,” He swore, eyes traveling over you.  
  
You leaned down, pressing your lips to his to stop him from saying anything else. When he spoke, it was too warm, almost reverent, and you weren’t sure you could handle it. Pope’s arms curled around you, tucking you into his chest as you maintained the languid rolls of your hips. Apparently you didn’t keep his lips occupied well enough.  
  
“You feel so good,” He murmured against your lips, “So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”  
  
You hummed against his lips, sliding your hand over his chest and tangling your fingers in the chain around his neck.  
  
“Think you could come like this, just on my cock?” He asked, “I bet you could. God, you look so beautiful when you come for me, too-- Pretty as a goddamn picture, and you make the hottest fucking sounds--”  
  
“ _Santiago_ ,” You whined, rolling your hips faster. His hands wrapped around your waist, squeezing and keeping you close.  
  
“That’s it,” He murmured, “Cum on that cock, beautiful, go on.”  
  
Your hips stuttered as you tightened up on Santiago. He tightened his grip on you, planting his feet on the bed and fucking up into you in quick, hard thrusts. You didn’t bother to try and silence the whines and moans that were spilling out of your mouth you rode out your orgasm. Santiago followed moments later, hips driving into yours before he settled down on the bed.  
  
The two of you lay together, sweating and panting through the aftershocks. You stayed curled up on Santiago’s chest for a few moments before you rolled off of his chest, looking up at his ceiling. You watched Santiago sit up before you looked away again. Usually this was when you started plotting your exit plan. Your bra was...Somewhere. Your panties were somewhere else and your dress was in a third place. This was not going to be a smooth exit.  
  
“ _*Ven acá,”_ You heard him mumble. You looked over at Santiago, surprised to find him watching you. You scooched closer to him, letting yourself be folded back into his chest, resting a hand on his stomach and absently tracing the muscle there with your nails. You felt him shiver a bit and you raised a brow, peering up at him.  
  
“Ticklish?” You asked, amused.  
  
“You do not want to play that game with me, beautiful. You won’t win,” His grumbling a blend of stern and teasing. You bit back a laugh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his shoulder and hiding your smile as you did so.  
  
Santiago noted that. He didn’t think you registered the motion when you did it, that hiding. He lifted his hand, sweeping your hair away from your face.  
  
“Think your friend’ll make good on her threat to gut me if you stay here tonight?” He asked. You arched a brow.  
  
“Jen threatened to _gut_ you?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him.  
  
“Mhm, when you briefly excused yourself at the bar. Presumably when you went to scope out the bathroom to make sure we couldn’t fuck in there,” Santiago said. You rolled your eyes, lowering your head back to his chest.  
  
“She won’t,” You said.  
  
“So you’ll stay?” Santiago asked.  
  
Rather than answer, you tipped your head up, leaning up for another kiss.  
  
\--  
  
Pope didn’t know what compelled him to ask you to stay. Typically he’d help whoever it was get their things together, give them one more kiss, maybe a slap on the ass, and let them be on their way. Instead, he tugged the covers up over the both of you, pressed his face into your hair, and braced himself for regret first thing in the morning. But when he woke up, and he felt your arms wrapped around his middle, the long line of your body pressed against his, and he realized that he was the little spoon, he didn’t feel any regret at all.  
  
He reached down, taking hold of your hand and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. You shifted behind him, pressing your face into the back of his neck as you slid one of your legs between his.  
  
“You awake back there?” He murmured. You hummed a negative response and he laughed softly. He pressed another another kiss to your hand.  
  
“You sleep alright?” He asked.  
  
“Mhm,” You mumbled, “Did you?”  
  
“Yeah,” He murmured. He really did. He reached back, tenderly sliding a hand over your hip.  
  
“You want some coffee?”  
  
\--  
  
“How can you not own a coffee maker?” You asked, eyeing the take-out coffee cup Santiago was holding out to you with amusement.  
  
“If you don’t stop judging me, I’m not gonna buy you an oblea,” He grumbled. You snorted, taking the cup from him.  
  
"Is that how you usually do this? Cup of coffee and a dessert for breakfast before sending someone on their way?” You asked. You didn’t know why you did, you probably didn’t want to know. But Pope took the question in stride, pushing himself up to lean back against the headboard beside you.  
  
“I usually wake up alone,” He said. It was mentioned with such flatness and flippancy that you knew it was the truth. You regarded him with surprise.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Mhm. I don’t sleep well with other people usually.”  
  
“But you did with me?” You asked. He nodded, taking a sip from his own coffee.  
  
“I’m trying not to read too much into it,” He turned his head, smiling at you. You matched his smile. He was even more handsome in morning light than he was in a dim bar.  
  
“So, oblea?” He offered again. You hummed, thoughtful.  
  
“If we go back to where I’m staying, I can make breakfast,” You offered as casually as possible, fingers fiddling with the sleeve on the coffee cup.  
  
“You don’t think I can make breakfast?” Santiago brought his hand up to his chest, offended, and you shot him a look.  
  
“You don’t even have a coffee maker. I would be willing to bet that all you have in your kitchen is half a dozen expired eggs, a carton of milk that’s basically turned to cheese, salt and pepper, and Melinda’s hot sauce in your cabinet.”  
  
Santiago blinked at you.  
  
“...You can’t work with that?”  
  
\--  
  
"Are you dead?”  
  
Jen’s voice rang through the AirBnB. You glanced back toward the sound, calling out, “No,” before turning back to the stove. Santiago chuckled against your skin, dropping another kiss to your neck. You’d gotten back to the AirBnB nearly half an hour ago, having showered at Santiago’s (and getting more than a little sidetracked with him in the process). Santiago hadn’t just sat around and waited as you cooked; he’d chopped vegetables, gotten down bowls when you asked, made more coffee.  
  
“Oh my _god_ , you will not believe the night I had,” Jen went on. You could hear her dropping the keys on the table near the entry way, “That guy from the bar that I left with-- He did this thing with his tongue--”  
  
“We’re not alone!” You hurried to warn. There was a pause before Jen poked her head into the kitchen.  
  
“...Santiago doesn’t care, right? I’m sure he also does things with his tongue,” She grinned.  
  
“I in fact did several things with my tongue, as someone here can attest,” Santiago said, squeezing your hips and tugging you back against his chest. You huffed a laugh, acutely aware of how red your face was flushing.  
  
“I just wanted to let you know,” You said, looking over at Jen, “Feel free to continue your story as long as we’re all comfortable-- Want an omelet?”  
  
“Oh, fuck yes. Are you making potatoes, too?” She asked.  
  
“They’re already in the oven,” Santiago informed her before he resumed dropping kisses to your neck and shoulders. Jen’s brows raised suggestively and you rolled your eyes, turning back to the stove to make sure the food didn’t burn.

\--  
  
Pope did not let one night stands turn into two night stands or three night stands, but there you two were. It had been a week. He didn’t know what it was - maybe it was the fact that he knew you’d be leaving soon anyway, but he had stayed in Medellín way longer than he’d anticipated. He had to get back to work, and you had a life in the States to get back to.  
  
He reached out, brushing his fingers over your shoulder. When you didn’t stir immediately, he rolled over, pressing a kiss to that same spot. You turned your head to look at him, blinking sleepily at him. He smiled.  
  
“You still with me?” He asked. You laughed quietly.  
  
“You didn’t fuck me _that_ good, Garcia,” You sassed him, and Santiago laughed.  
  
“Careful, beautiful, that sounds like a challenge.”  
  
\--  
  
You sat on Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia’s couch (you’d found out about his nickname three nights ago when his friends from the service had called and he’d put them on speaker phone), pulling on your shoes. You’d insisted on getting dressed somewhere other than the bedroom; you were sure if you didn’t, you’d just wind up in bed again, and you really did need to get back to the AirBnB and pack.  
  
“All set?”  
  
You turned your head to see Pope leaning over the back of the couch, watching you, and you smiled.  
  
“Yeah,” You said, standing. You made small talk on the way too the door, sounding more like people that had just met up for a first date than people that had spent the last week having sex.  
  
But... It had been more than sex, right? You’d spent days with the guy. He’d taken you to some of his favorite spots in the city; you’d learned about what he did for a living, had been taken through a brief catalogue of the scars that littered his torso and legs; he’d learned about your life at home, what your family was like. He knew how you took your coffee, and you knew that the man would eat an oblea at _any_ hour, day or night.  
  
Pope reached out, drawing you into a hug. You pressed your face into his neck, closing your eyes. You weren’t going to feel this again, you were sure. You’d exchanged numbers, but... The guy wasn’t gonna use yours.  
  
“Be careful out there,” You mumbled. The request felt futile, but Pope gave you a reassuring squeeze in response.  
  
“I’m always careful,” He murmured. You huffed.  
  
“Yeah, well...” You leaned away, “The scar on your shoulder from a bottle rocket and a reliable source named Will Miller would disagree with you.”  
  
Pope grinned at the name and fact drops, muttering, “C’mere,” As he cupped your cheek, drawing you in for a kiss. You went easily, savoring the moment for as long as possible. When the kiss broke, Pope rested his forehead against yours.  
  
“Take care’a yourself,” He murmured. You nodded, pecking his lips one more time before leaving.  
  
It was a vacation fling.  
  
So why the hell did you feel like you left part of yourself in that damn apartment?  
  
\--  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Well that’s a warm welcome,” Santiago laughed at your tone, and you stilled at the sound of his voice, unable to help your grin.  
  
“I’m sorry,” You said, putting your pen down and focusing on the phone, “I was waiting for someone to call back and I thought-- I didn’t check the caller ID.”  
  
Santiago had called.  
  
Santiago actually... Called a lot. And texted, when he could. He tended to call more than text, actually; it was easier for him, he could get things done while he talked to you. Sometimes he’d wake up from a nightmare and call you, and fall back asleep listening to your voice. You were stunned that the two of you had maintained this much contact, but you were happy.  
  
Something about him lightened you. Your day got better when you saw a text from him. He made you feel good. You didn’t think that he even realized that he did it, but he did.  
  
“I can call back,” He offered, and you hurried to say,  
  
“It’s alright, they said they’d call back like an hour ago. They either forgot or they’re distracted-- either way I don’t really give a shit, how are you?” You asked. He chuckled.  
  
“I’m just fine, beautiful,” He said, “Actually, I’m better than fine and I’m uh... I’ll be in the States for a couple of weeks and... I was wondering if I could come visit.”  
  
You raised a brow. This was the first time you’d ever heard Pope sound anything like unsure.  
  
“If you’ve got time,” He tacked on.  
  
“Of course I’ve got time,” You said, “I wanna see you.”  
  
That was probably grossly eager, but you almost didn’t care.  
  
“I wanna see you, too,” Santiago murmured. You closed your eyes, biting your lip.  
  
“Good,” You sighed, “When do you get here?”  
  
“The fifteenth. That okay?”  
  
“More than okay.”  
  
“Good...You at the office? You wanna have a little fun?”  
  
You rolled your eyes. You and Pope had had phone sex a couple of times while apart, and though it was hot, there was a line that you just wouldn’t cross at work.  
  
“I _am_ at the office.”  
  
“...You wanna have a little fun?”  
  
“ _Santi_.”  
  
“Is it one of those, like, fish tank offices where it’s all glass? Think I could fuck you up against the wall sometime?”  
  
“Jesus,” You grumbled, scrubbing your hand over your face, “You’re a menace, Garcia.”  
  
“You like it.”  
  
You did, far too much.  
  
\--

He was on you the second you opened the door. His bag was dropped by your coat rack before he cupped your face, drawing you in for a long kiss. You groaned, throwing your arms around his shoulders and walking back inside, lifting your leg to kick the door shut behind him. Before you could lower it, Santiago reached down, gripping your thigh and hiking your leg up around his hip. He followed suit with the other before he turned, pressing you back against the wall of your front hall.  
  
You grinned as you slid a hand into Santiago’s hair, combing your finger through his curls. Santiago leaned away, pecking your lips a few times. You knew you were grinning, you couldn’t help yourself. When Santiago leaned away to look at you, he was, too.  
  
“Well that’s a warm welcome,” You teased, carefully lowering your legs from his hips.  
  
“Warm as I could muster, baby,” He murmured, leaning in and mouthing at your jaw. You closed your eyes, tipping your head.  
  
“Do you um-- Do you want some water, or something to eat, or--”  
  
“I think it’s pretty clear what I want right now,” Santiago murmured.  
  
“Well one of us was pretending you could think with something other than your dick for once,” You laughed.  
  
“Why try and talk us out of a good time?”  
  
\--  
  
“Fuck, I _can’t--”_ You whined. Pope chuckled into your shoulder.  
  
“I bet you can,” He murmured. You’d lost count of how many times you’d cum that night. Pope had cum twice, you knew that - once in your mouth, once while he was in you. But even as he’d been coming down from that second orgasm, he’d pulled out of you, leaned back on the bed and gotten his mouth on you. You’d been so oversensitive you’d practically cried.  
  
“I know you’ve got one more in you, gorgeous,” He added, turning his head and sucking a mark into your neck. Your hips stuttered at the harsh scrape of his teeth on of your heated skin, chased by the slick soothing of his tongue.  
  
“Santi-- Oh, god,” You breathed out as his fingers tapped mercilessly against your clit. You came for the umpteenth time that night, pressing up against Santiago, helpless little whimpers falling from your lips as his hips slapped against yours. He pressed his face into your neck as he came down from his orgasm.  
  
You sighed, letting your legs relax and splay as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You didn’t want him to move, not just yet. Santiago didn’t make any move to get away, though; his hands slipped under your shoulders as he mouthed over the marks he’d made to your neck.  
  
“...We should get cleaned up,” You mumbled after a few moments. Santiago loosed a grunt in response, but made no other sound.  
  
\--  
  
That was a new one.

You had known every single inch of Santiago when you’d left Medellín six months ago. But now there was a raised scar at the base of his neck. When you two were having sex, you’d been more focused on the cool slip of his chain back under your fingers, but now you couldn’t look away from the line of lighter raised skin.  
  
You reached out, gently tracing your finger down the length of it, to where it stopped just between his shoulder blades. Santiago tipped his head forward, baring the skin to you further, and you felt your insides twist. You leaned in, brushing your lips over the path that your finger had traced.  
  
“Do I want to know?” You asked, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.  
  
“... Hazard of the job,” Was his quiet response. You leaned back against your pillows, letting your gaze turn back toward the ceiling. You didn’t know much, but you knew _enough_ about the human anatomy. Anything too deep in that area could’ve caused permanent, _serious_ damage, maybe paralysis.  
  
“** _Basta_ ,” You heard Pope grunt beside you.  
  
“What?” You mumbled. His hand snaked under the covers, sliding over your stomach and smoothing over the curve of your hip.  
  
“I could hear you thinking too loudly, _***_ _cariño_.”  
  
“...That was my normal thinking volume,” You grumbled, sliding your hand over his arm. He chuckled. You could feel him turning his head to look at you.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about me,” He tacked on softly.  
  
He’d said that before, when he’d told you what he did for a living when you two were in Medellín, when you were on the phone and you’d taken longer to hang up because you were telling him to be careful. Pope had freed you of your worrying duties a hundred times. Problem was it never really made the worry go away.  
  
You didn’t answer him, just turned your head toward the window. You could see the sun starting to rise. Pope followed suit in your silence, curling into your side. You slid a hand into his hair, massaging his scalp and listening to his breathing even out. Even as he fell asleep, you stayed awake, focusing on the feeling of him curled up beside you again, and trying to ignore the raised scar where it pressed up against your arm.  
  
\--  
  
This was akin to meeting a guy’s parents, right?  
  
It had taken some poking and prodding, but Pope had managed to talk you into going down to see his team that weekend. He would be staying for the entire week (and had tried to get you to stay for longer - it hadn’t worked). Jen had been stunned that you were actually going somewhere, and doubly so when you’d told her who with (“Santiago? That...The guy you fucked like months ago?”). She had expected you to leave that particular experience in Medellín like a normal person.  
  
“We’re gonna meet up with Frankie first before I throw you to the rest of the wolves,” Pope said casually, grabbing your bag from the trunk. You rolled your eyes, taking it from him.  
  
“You always know just what to say to reassure me,” You groused. Pope grinned, leaning in and kissing you warmly before throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you into the hotel lobby.  
  
You’d spoken to the guys a couple of times while you were with Pope in Medellín. They’d called on a night in, and he’d put them on speaker phone. You hadn’t expected him to, but you’d loved it - it was like he was opening up a corner of his world to you. Back then you’d figured it was a sweet gesture from a man you were never going to see again. Now, well...You weren’t sure what the heck this was. If anyone had asked you earlier this week, you would’ve told them it was a fun visit from a good friend (with a lot of sex). But now you were meeting his friends and that felt like some kind of step forward.  
  
You just weren’t sure what toward.  
  
\--  
  
Things had been going _fine_. You loved Frankie, you loved seeing Santi loosen even further around him. And the guys had been great - Will and Ben and Tom were all welcoming and fun to be around.  
  
You’d just excused yourself to the restroom, stupidly texted Jen that things were going great, and had opened the door a bit to head back to the table when you had heard Ben’s voice:  
  
“I can’t even get one woman to give me the time of day in _one_ country and you’ve got god knows how many in two?”  
  
You’d immediately told yourself that it could’ve been directed at any of the guys, but Santiago’s voice had immediately shot back,  
  
“That’s because you’re a shithead, Benny,” Followed by an eruption of laughter from the guys.  
  
You hesitated before you shut the door, stepping further back into the bathroom.  
  
Why did that hurt so much?  
  
Maybe because he hadn’t denied it. Or because for the last six months, you hadn’t even so much as looked at another man. That wasn’t his _fault_ ; if anything, it was yours. You’d become devoted to this guy. He hadn’t asked you to be, you two hadn’t talked about it.  
  
Your phone buzzed with Jen’s response: ‘ _So happy to hear that!!! 💖💖’_.

You felt like you’d just swallowed a stone.  
  
\--  
  
“You okay?” Santi asked. You glanced at him where he was watching you in the doorway of the bathroom.  
  
“Fine, why?” You asked, letting a carefully constructed confusion overtake your face.  
  
“...Just checking,” He said after a moment. He pushed off of the door frame, drifting closer and resting his hands on your hips as you applied moisturizer to your face. You glanced at him, raising a brow when you found him watching you in the mirror.  
  
“What?” You asked.  
  
“Nothin’. Just like looking at you,” He murmured. All your lingering irritation couldn’t help the butterflies that swirled around in your stomach at that.  
  
“Take a picture, Garcia, it’ll last longer,” You teased, lifting a finger and dabbing some moisturizer on the tip of his nose.  
  
\--  
  
Something about you two was sweeter that night. Santiago kept lifting your head, keeping his eyes on yours, telling you to look at him. It was too much; as you came, you found that your eyes were wet. You squeezed them shut, pressing your face into his neck, able to hide from him for the first time that night.  
  
You were leaving in the morning. He was going back to Colombia at the end of the week. This was not the time for the ‘what are we doing’ conversation; maybe it would never be time for that conversation.  
  
\--  
  
“...Fish says you sent a gift to the baby shower, that was sweet of you.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I felt bad that I couldn’t make it down,” You said.  
  
You hated this. Your entire body was tense, your arm crossed over your chest like you could ward him off; like he was in front of you now and you needed shielding.  
  
After you’d met the team, heard what you’d heard, you’d pulled back from Pope a bit. Work was getting busier for both of you. On a call, when he was back in Colombia and you were back home, you’d (somewhat) jokingly told Pope that if he wasn’t careful and let women distract him from his work, he’d wind up with something worse than a scar.

He’d simply told you that it was lucky that he’d never found you all that distracting.  
  
Communication had slowed between you two after that; you’d send and receive texts now and again, mostly to make sure he was still alive. But then Fish had sent an invite to his girlfriend’s baby shower. You weren’t sure if Santiago would be there, but either way, you knew if you went, it would be awkward as hell. It had been that past weekend, and you’d bought the most expensive thing on the registry, which had apparently prompted the first phone call you’d gotten from Santiago Garcia in over four months.  
  
“...You’re good? Things are fine?” Pope asked. You raised a brow.  
  
“You already asked me that,” You pointed out. Santiago hissed on the other end.  
  
“Fuck, _cariño_ , ‘m trying here.”  
  
Guilt lodged itself in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as you lowered yourself to sit on the edge of your bed.  
  
“I’m sorry,” You said quietly before adding, “Yeah, things are fine. Work’s busy but, you know. What else is new?... What about you, how’s um... You know.”  
  
“It’s alright. No new scars to report.”  
  
You couldn’t help the smile that prompted.  
  
“Glad to hear it,” You said honestly.  
  
Silence stretched between you two.  
  
“What did I do?” Santiago asked after a moment. You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.  
  
“I fucked up and fell for you, Santi. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”  
  
A pause, and then a beep. You pulled your phone away to find the call ended. You tossed your phone onto your bed and drew your knees up to your chest.  
  
\--  
  
It was the longest of long shots.  
  
The company you worked for was opening an office in Medellín, and they needed people down there to get it set up. You and Jen had volunteered, among others. You hadn’t heard from Santiago since that call. You hadn’t reached out because it hadn’t felt right to. You’d dropped a pretty big bomb on the guy, you were sure he needed to process that... Or possibly never wanted to speak to you again.  
  
When you’d landed, you’d sent him one text, just one, letting him know that you were in town, would be for a while. It had gone through, so your number wasn’t blocked (that was a good sign, at least, right? ... Right?). But you weren’t holding out hope. Once you’d gotten your things unpacked, you’d showered, and, on a whim, gone to the bar where you’d first met Santiago. You were just going to stay for one drink.  
  
“You never did get that once-over in, did you?”  
  
You froze with your hand on your beer. You didn’t dare turn around; this had to be a dream - the second you caught a glimpse of him, he’d disappear and you’d wake up, you just knew it. You didn’t have to turn, though, because he just slid onto the seat beside yours.  
  
“S’alright, I’m sure we can squeeze it in later,” he said casually before he raised his hand, flagging the bartender down.  
  
“Want another one?” he added, nodding to your beer. You shook your head, and while he ordered, you let yourself... Look.  
  
He looked tired. The first time you’d met him, he’d looked like this - you’d found out later that he’d just come off of a job, had hit a dead-end with a lead and had been frustrated as hell (and you’d been happy to let him take the frustration out on you that week). Your eyes drifted over the bags under his eyes, the thicker-than-usual stubble, the chain where it disappeared under his shirt. Well. At least that was still the same.  
  
You turned away as he turned back to look at you, gnawing at your lower lip as your fingers fidgeted with the label on the bottle.  
  
“What’d you mean, ‘once-over’?” You asked after a moment.  
  
“You told your friend the first thing you’d do if I’d come over the night we met was give me a once-over.” 

You frowned, brow furrowing as you racked your mind. When you realized he was right, you turned back to him, stunned.  
  
“How the hell do you remember that?” You asked, stunned. He just smiled, soft, open.  
  
“I remember a lot, _cariño_.”  
  
He turned away to thank the bartender as his drink was set in front of him. You two went quiet then.  
  
“...It shouldn’t be fault,” Pope said quietly.  
  
“Hm?” You asked.  
  
“When you fall in love with someone...That’s never a matter of fault. That feeling, it shouldn’t be bad thing...Was it a bad thing for you?”   
  
You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable, fingers back at the label.  
  
“’Bad’ isn’t the word I’d use--”  
  
“Well, excuse me, I mean I only found out that you felt that way after some backhanded comment about me not being able to do my job--”  
  
“Jesus, Santiago, I don’t want this,” You set the bottle down, sliding your hands off of the bar and setting them on your thighs, “I didn’t tell you I was around just so we could argue.”  
  
“Then why did you--”  
  
“Because I fucking miss you!” You laughed as you said it, a little delirious in your frustration, “Maybe that’s stupid, or naïve, and maybe you think I’m an absolute dumbass for still being in love with you but... Fuckssake, Santi,” You slouched in your seat, defeated.  
  
“...You are?” Pope asked softly.  
  
“What?” You asked, turning your head in his direction without meeting his eyes.  
  
“Still in love with me.”  
  
It hurt too much to say again. You just nodded. One of Santiago’s hands settled over yours.  
  
“You’re not the only one that fell here, _cariño_.”  
  
\--  
  
The stunned, hopeful look in your eyes as you turned to him punched Pope right in the fucking heart. He swore up and down that he was going to regret telling you that.  
  
But as the sun rose over Medellín the next morning, and you tenderly traced over the scar on the back of his neck, he didn’t feel regret for a single second.


End file.
